STP rebounds, Bowie's 26th, Foo Fighters waver

Stone Temple Pilots
No. 4
***1/2

The career of the Stone Temple Pilots can easily be seen as nothing more than a drug tragedy, if viewed through the cliches of modern rock. In 1998, while battling heroin addiction and legal troubles lead singer Scott Weiland left the band to make the odd, glam-tinged solo recording 12 Bar Blues. The remaining members of STP subsequently regrouped with a new singer under the new moniker Talk Show to produce a self-titled debut album. But 12 Bar Blues and Talk Show tanked, doing little to improve either party's career.

With a wardrobe full of rock star clothes and a body free of heroin, Weiland returns with his old chums to make an album that aims to re-estsblish some of the hype that exploded after the release of their first record, Core. So, with the follow-up to 1996's Tiny Music. . . Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop, they give us No. 4.

In the history of rock, four has always been a strangely significant number. The Beatles were the fab four, of course, while Led Zeppelin's untitled fourth album - referred to by most fans simply as "number four" - is one of the most popular albums of all time.

Despite all the obstacles to the continued success of the Stone Temple Pilots, No. 4 more or less delivers in its own right. This deliverance, though, doesn't come by way of catchy pop tunes as on Tiny Music, but rather on the rock power the band assaulted listeners with on the first two albums. Songs like "Down," "Heaven and Hot Roads," "No Way Out" and "MC5," bring the listener back to the glory days of the band's first disc. "Down" completely rocks. These songs are crunchy arena-rock tunes and are pretty successful in mastering their aim of guitar domination. The structures of these harder songs are too easy, nonetheless. There are also moments in these harder tunes when Weiland's wispy vocals seem to get lost in the mix.

The more interesting tunes on the album, though, are the sad "Sour Girl," "Church on Tuesday" and the last song, "Atlanta," which sends the listener to the plush lounges of Las Vegas with Weiland's sultry vocals. "Sour Girl" complements Weiland's vocals beautifully with its subtle acoustic guitar. "Atlanta," in much the same vein, seems best suited for Weiland's softer approach to singing. With its acoustic guitar, sing-song chorus, and sweeping string arrangements, the song is a lush example of Weiland and Co.'s music making abilities.

One can also clearly see Weiland's heroin past creeping up on him in No.4. In the country-ish "I Got You," he lets us know that it's "the craving for the good life/That sees me through troubled times/When my mind begins to wander to the spoon." The struggle to make this comeback record only served to remind Weiland of his troubled past. This struggle, though, paid off. This album won't come close to bringing back the kids who left STP for the greener pastures of the likes of Korn and Limp Bizkit, but it will allow the band to assume its role as one of the last remaining popular rock bands from the early 90s.
- John MacDonald

David Bowie
'hours...'
****

David Bowie has grown quite a bit since the days of Ziggy Stardust and Major Tom, a fact that has not escaped his attention on his latest release, 'hours...'. On this, his 26th album (excluding countless compilations and remastered artifacts), the Thin White Duke veers away from the electronica that was so prevalent on 1997's Earthlings and returns to the melancholy synth-pop that served him so well on past efforts like Let's Dance and the soundtrack to Labyrinth. The result is a surprisingly strong album that finds a morose Bowie contemplating the perils of aging against a background of haunting melodies and powerful rhythms.

Although 'hours...' is not quite as exciting or ambitious as Earthlings, Bowie's nod to the industrial rock produced by talented youngsters like Trent Reznor, it nevertheless finds him coupled with Earthlings co-producer Reeves Gabrels, whose skills as a guitarist and composer have been indispensable to the Thin White Duke during his latest comeback. Together, the duo creates a string of memorable tracks that represent some of Bowie's strongest work in years. "Thursday's Child," for instance, is a blunt assessment of a miserable life that benefits from lush, richly textured arrangements and the unique beauty of Bowie's passionate voice. Meanwhile, "Survive" begins as a tender acoustic ballad and gradually develops into a rousing, thunderous epic drawn from the same vein as "Heroes."

But perhaps the strongest track on 'hours...' is "What's Really Happening?," a strangely seductive meditation on the demise of a relationship. With its screaming guitars and desperate vocals, "Happening" recalls the raw power of vintage Bowie, but retains its decidedly modern edge with the help of Gabrels and drum and synth programmer Mark Plati.

The rest of the album is consistently good and, at times, brilliant. "The Pretty Things are Going to Hell" features some of Bowie's most angrily eloquent lyrics in years ("I am a dragon, I am the sky/I am the blood in the corner of your eye/I found the secrets, I found gold/I find you out before you grow old"); meanwhile, "New Angels of Promise" finds the Duke returning to the raucous pop that constituted much of 1988's Labyrinth soundtrack. Finally, "The Dreamers," an ode to the futility of dreaming and the loneliness that comes with age, concludes the album on a fittingly despondent and unsentimental note.

Thus, 'hours...' is something less than a revelation and more than a pleasant surprise. For one thing, it proves that the delightful Earthlings did not exhaust David Bowie's last reserve of creative energy; better yet, it provides resounding proof that the Duke still possesses enough talent and passion to produce great rock albums, even at the ripe age of 52. But don't be fooled by the grim lyrics that permeate his latest release. Bowie does not yet qualify as a senior citizen, and it is unlikely that will be travelling to the Great Beyond anytime soon. By industry standards, of course, he is a dinosaur who might as well be peddling nostalgia on the arena circuit with fellow geriatrics Mick Jagger and Pete Townshend. But there's plenty of life left in David Bowie, and 'hours...' captures that life better than any album since 1983's Let's Dance. It's a remarkable achievement, really. Now let's just hope there's more where this came from.
- Rossiter Drake

Foo Fighters
There is Nothing Left to Lose
***

After their astonishing 1995 debut, Foo Fighters hit a bump in the road with their sophomore effort, the inconsistent Colour and the Shape. Now, they return with There is Nothing Left to Lose, a mixed bag of disjointed power pop and stirring, sentimental ballads. As usual, the band is at is best when it captures the simple, irresistible hooks that fuel tracks like "Learn to Fly" and "M.I.A.;" at other times, Dave Grohl and company seem to be searching for a melody or a riff, something to inject a little soul into their loud, abrasive pop.

The album begins on a promising note with "Stacked Actors," a blistering, power chord-driven diatribe reminiscent of Nirvana's "Milk It." "Actors" has all the aggression and melodic appeal of the band's best material ("I'll Stick Around," "Alone and Easy Target"), and it works nicely as a robust, attention-grabbing opener. The next track, "Breakout," is a more simple, conventional bit of power pop that relies on its catchy chorus to throw its hooks into listeners.

But the best track on Nothing Left to Lose is clearly the third track, "Learn to Fly." The song, which could easily be interpreted as a subtle nod to the demise of Grohl's former band ("Hook up a new revolution/Cause this one is a lie/We sat around laughing/And watched the last one die"), may be the strongest that the Fighters have produced during their four years together. With its droning, swirling guitars and desperate vocals, "Fly" is as moving as it is addictive and has all the makings of a true pop classic. Sadly, no other track on the album measures up to "Fly," but it nevertheless stands as powerful evidence that the members of Foo Fighters - and, more specifically, Grohl - have blossomed into formidable songwriters.

The rest of the album waivers between more of the same energetic rock that the Foo Fighters refined on their previous releases ("Gimme Stitches," "Generator") and several softer, lazier numbers that mark something of a departure for the band. "Next Year," for instance, is a slow, hypnotic track about the joys of escapism; but while "Year," which could almost pass for a country ballad, is a welcome change of pace from the redundant mainstream punk that Grohl produces so effortlessly, "Ain't It the Life" seems a bit too slow. Indeed, "Life" is a dull ballad that positively crawls toward its soporific conclusion, daring listeners to fall asleep before hearing the opening chords of the luscious final number, "M.I.A."

Although it is the band's most ambitious effort to date, There is Nothing Left to Lose is not the bold breakthrough album that its title might suggest. Instead, it is just another impressive chapter in the surprisingly pleasing - if not spectacular - saga of the Foo Fighters. Clearly, the band has the talent and potential to produce great, guilt-free pop; for proof, just look to songs like "Learn to Fly," "This is a Call" and the sugary "Big Me." But Grohl and his fellow Fighters, bassist Nate Mendel and drummer Taylor Hawkins, have yet to paint their masterpiece.

While they have broadened their horizons on their latest release, they fail to produce the consistent results that made their debut such a pleasure. Thus, There is Nothing Left to Lose will probably satisfy the appetites of rabid Foo Fighters fans for the next couple of years, but it still leaves just a bit to be desired.
- Rossiter Drake